


Irish Curse

by notvelma



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M, St. Patrick's Day, curse, everybody wants ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's St. Patrick's Day in Oz and suddenly everybody wants Ryan. Everyone, that is, except a certain CO who seems intent on protecting Ryan's virtue. Luck of the Irish? More like curse! Ryan/Sean crack!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irish Curse

**Author's Note:**

> It looks like this probably takes place early season 4, because Stanislofsky is alive and McManus is still in charge of Em City, but I kind of screwed it up by including the cell phone! Hopefully it's not too confusing. Or you can just pretend that Querns was never in charge of Em City?
> 
> The "crack!fic" label is serious, though – and by that I mean that you, as a reader, should not take a lot of this seriously. It's not supposed to make sense. Also most of the people flirting with Ryan are "strange" but that was my intent and why it's crack!fic.

Ryan had no idea what day it was when he got up that morning, but it wasn't something that usually concerned him. What good was remembering dates when every day was the same, when the weather never changed, when he was going to be in this place for the rest of his fuckin life? 

The pod doors buzzed open and Murphy called for count, so Ryan nudged his brother to get up. Cyril scrubbed his eyes and made noise about wanting to sleep a little longer, but Ryan nudged him again and the younger O'Reily finally got up, still rubbing his eyes and blinking sleepily. 

While the brothers waited outside their pod for the hacks to do the count, Ryan stretched and did his usual look around to see what was going on with the rest of the inmates; he didn't want to miss any new developments. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary – at least, not for Oz – until Ryan caught the eye of Nikolai Stanislofsky. The Russian seemed to be staring at Ryan like he couldn't figure out what he was seeing; it was as though he was noticing Ryan in a completely different light. It was unsettling.

Instantly, Ryan thought of the cell phone and wondered if it had something to do with that. These days, that phone was the only connection he had with Stanislofsky, but Ryan liked it that way. Still, the way Nikolai was looking at him right now suggested that he had some other ideas about the two of them.

Ryan pushed those thoughts aside, figuring he was probably just reading the guy wrong. It was too early, anyway, and he hadn't eaten yet. He'd be sorted out after breakfast, and then he could find out what was up with the Russian.

*

Except things just got weirder once Ryan was in the kitchen, helping the rest of the kitchen crew to make breakfast. He was in the back room, grabbing a can of tomatoes off the top shelf when, out of nowhere, Chucky Pancamo was suddenly standing way too closely behind him.

"You wanna back off, Pancamo?" Ryan grumbled, climbing down from the ladder. 

Instead of backing off or even coming up with a smart remark, Pancamo moved in closer. He put his big hands on Ryan's waist, like he was trying to grab him or something.

Ryan dropped the can from his hands and spun around as quickly as he could. "Whoa, whoa," he said, holding up his hands. "What the fuck are you trying to do, Pancamo? I ain't your fuckin prag, so keep your goddamn dirty hands off me!" he exclaimed. 

Yeah, so he and Pancamo weren't exactly buddies – then again, who was Ryan buddies with these days? – but since when was Chucky all that eager to fuck guys? And why the fuck would he pick Ryan, of all the guys in this place? Ryan O'Reily was nobody's prag, least of all to an Italian like Chucky. 

Pancamo was looking at Ryan with the same expression Stanislofsky had been using earlier, and Ryan was officially freaked out. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was having some sort of weird drug trip, but he hadn't used in a while so he knew that couldn't be true. 

"Ryan," Chucky said in a soft voice that didn't sound like him at all, "Don't you know that Italians make the best lovers? Bet you didn't know that." He flexed the muscle in his bicep and licked his lips in what he probably thought was an inviting manner. "Let me show you what I can do." He leaned forward like he was going to kiss Ryan, pressing their chests together. "Once you've had an Italian, you'll never want anything else," he said softly. His breath was ghosting on Ryan's lips. 

Though he really wanted to, Ryan couldn't exactly pull away – not with Chucky's arms holding him in, blocking him on either side. The Sicilian was too large and though Ryan had the strength, there was no way he could push Chucky away. 

"Hey, Pancamo! O'Reily! What the fuck is going on here?" called a familiar voice. "Don't you two got breakfast to be cooking?" When Ryan turned to look, he saw Officer Murphy standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and that 'I don't have time for this shit' look on his face. Ryan had never been happier to see a hack – any hack, really – than he was at that very moment. The fact that it was Murphy was just a bonus. 

At the interruption from the officer, Pancamo backed off, putting his hands up defensively and giving Murphy his best innocent look. Ryan took the break to move away from the wall and from Chucky before brushing off his shirt. He was a bit shaken from the experience. 

Meanwhile, Pancamo was giving Murphy his best innocent look. "We were just talking, honest," he said, but neither Murphy nor Ryan was falling for that expression on his face. 

Murphy raised his eyebrows, and Ryan felt something stir inside his own body in response. "Now I wonder why I don't believe you," Murphy said with a sigh. "Never mind. Just get back to work, Pancamo. You got hungry inmates waiting." He jerked his thumb back toward the kitchen, like Pancamo needed directions on how to get there. 

With a scowl on his face, Pancamo did as he was told, albeit reluctantly. Murphy waited around for a minute, looking at Ryan with something akin to concern. Funny what those dark eyes could do to a guy. Ryan wasn't sure when his appreciation for the fellow Irishman had developed into lust, nor was he so sure that he liked the new development. It made things awkward whenever the guy showed up because Ryan would be stuck thinking all these inappropriate things. 

When Murphy said, "you okay, O'Reily? You wanna tell me what that was all about?" Ryan said nothing about his own conflicting feelings. Murphy didn't need to know about that yet – at least not until Ryan could figure out if these feelings were like it had been with Gloria, or if it was something different entirely. Ryan hadn't ever felt like this about a guy, either, so there was that little detail that made things even more complicated than they already were. 

Instead, Ryan answered, "No fuckin clue. It was like he was coming on to me or something, but I know Pancamo ain't no fag. Fuckin crazy Dago." He shook his head, but he couldn't forget the way that Pancamo had looked at him. It hadn't been anger or vengeance or even anything like lust. It was – what?

"You'll tell me if it becomes something, right?" Murphy said, still eyeing him. "If he's makin threats at you –" he began. When Ryan didn't fill in the blanks, Murphy continued. "Just let me know, okay? Now get back to work, O'Reily," he said with a nod. 

Ryan did what he was told, but unfortunately for him, the incident with Pancamo was only the beginning of the weird stuff to happen at breakfast that morning.

For starters, even after the chat with Murphy, Pancamo kept looking over at Ryan like there was some kinda magnet between his eyes and Ryan's body. It was creepy. And then a bit later, when Ryan was serving the food, some of the Homeboys were giving him the eye as they walked through the line – the same fuckin look he'd gotten from Pancamo. One of the bastards even put his hand on top of Ryan's for a second before Ryan pulled it away roughly.

"Don't fuckin touch me, you fag!" he said to the guy, and instantly Pancamo was up in his space, glaring at the offender in that menacing way that only he could do. 

The guy and his buddies backed off, but Pancamo hovered until Ryan shot a sharp look his way. The line of inmates continued and while Ryan was still getting the looks, at least nobody was trying to touch him. But fuck, what was the deal? Was he wearing some kind of sign that said "I really wanna be your prag" or some shit? The whole thing was fuckin insane and he didn't like it one bit. 

After breakfast, Ryan left Cyril with Bob Rebadow at one of the chess tables and went to take a shower. He wanted to wash the feel of Pancamo's hands off his body, and maybe try to think about what the hell was making everybody act so fuckin insane. Maybe there was something in the air in the kitchen. 

Ryan had his eyes closed to rinse the soap from his eyes, but that one instant with his guard down was enough. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer alone in the showers. He relaxed a little bit when he realized that it was just Beecher; Ryan knew that Toby posed no real threat to him. 

"I'll be done in a minute," said Ryan, turning off the spigot and grabbing his towel. As he dried off, he did keep an half an eye on Beecher. Though he was generally harmless, Ryan knew that the guy could get a little crazy sometimes, and considering how Ryan's day had gone so far, he was kind of counting on Beecher to be a little off kilter. 

"No hurry," Toby said breezily, stripping off his towel as he stepped up to the shower head right next to Ryan's. He turned on the spray and began to wash himself but even as he did so, he was looking at Ryan. "It's funny, O'Reily, but I never realized what a nice body you have. You must work out a lot to keep in such great shape," he said, letting his eyes roam the length of Ryan's body, lingering at his crotch.

Pulling his towel tight over his body, Ryan suddenly felt hot all over. "What are you getting at, Beecher?" he asked. He'd never felt so naked before. 

Toby was quiet for a minute, and Ryan almost thought he wasn't listening when suddenly he said, "you've been in Oz as long as I have, Ryan. You've never done anything with a guy?" he asked. "Never gotten so lonely or desperate that you maybe forgot you were straight?" He was watching Ryan carefully. "Don't you miss having somebody that cares about you? Don't you miss kissing?"

"I ain't nobody's prag," Ryan answered fiercely. He pushed aside thoughts of Sean that were threatening to take over; maybe he'd thought about kissing that guy, but he sure as hell wasn't telling Toby that. "Just 'cause you and Keller have that thing going on doesn't mean everybody else is gonna fall in love in prison or some shit. This is Oz, Beecher." He had no use for starry-eyed optimism, especially not Beecher's brand of it. "I don't fuck guys," he added sharply. "And I don't kiss them either." 

There was silence for a long time, and Ryan was about ready to leave the showers and get dressed when Beecher stopped him with a wet hand on his arm. "It's not much different from kissing a woman," he said. Before Ryan could ask what the fuck he was talking about, a very naked and very wet Tobias Beecher was suddenly crowding his personal space. "I don't know why I want you all of a sudden, but I do," he said softly. Though it didn't seem possible, he stepped even closer. 

Ryan knew he should have tried to stop the guy, but instead he waited for the inevitable. Later, he could convince himself that he had been hypnotized or something, but he knew that, in that moment, there was a part of him that wanted to know what it felt like to kiss a man – even if it was just Beecher. 

The kiss came, and Ryan found himself underwhelmed by it. It wasn't bad, really, but it wasn't anything to write home about, either. Toby's wet hands cupped his cheek, and his lips were not as warm as they should have been. To Ryan, it felt like he was kissing a fish. Still, Ryan let it go on a bit longer before he stopped it by pushing Toby away. "Keep your fucking mouth to yourself, Beecher. I'm not your fucking boyfriend." He hoped that he looked sufficiently disgusted; he didn't want Beecher to think that just because he'd let it go on that long that meant he'd liked it, because he hadn't. 

The other guy looked a little hurt. "You didn't like that?" he asked, and fuck, Ryan just wanted to know why all these guys were suddenly unable to keep their hands off him, anyway. Was he really that goddamn irresistible or what? Well, he knew he had a nice body, but most of these guys weren't even gay.

"I _told_ you, Beecher. I'm no fag," Ryan growled. "And don't fuckin touch me again." He tucked his towel in again – and when had it come undone, anyway? Had Beecher done that? – and stomped off. He felt about ready to punch a wall or something. He wondered if maybe he should find Officer Murphy and tell him about what Toby had done, but he knew Murphy would ask why he'd let it go on as long as it did. Ryan wasn't sure that he could come up with a decent explanation for that.

*

Ryan was hiding out in the library because Chucky hadn't stopped eyeing him down in Em City. The Italian hadn't made any more moves on him, but Ryan was still freaked out. That was not to mention some of the other inmates looking at him like they were dying in the desert and he was a cool drink of water. For fuck's sake, Ryan wondered if he'd gone to be and woke up a woman or something. It just didn't make any goddamn sense that everyone suddenly wanted him – well, everybody except for a certain hack, but Ryan didn't want to think about that part. His head was spinning enough as it was.

"O'Reily, you are a hard man to find, you know," said a familiar, Russian-accented voice. 

Ryan spun around to see Stanislofsky walking into the library with a small grin teasing on his lips. "Oh, hey, Nikolai. What's up, buddy?" he asked. He remembered the way the Russian had looked at him that morning, then thought of the way Beecher, Pancamo, and basically everybody else had been looking at him that day. It was the same look on Stanislofsky's face right now, and Ryan didn't like it.

"I looked for you in your pod, but your brother told me you had come to the library. And here you are!" Stanislofsky exclaimed, as though he had solved the secrets to the universe. "I am so happy to find you, Ryan O'Reily. We have much to talk about." There was that smirk on his face, too. 

Ryan tried to take a couple subtle steps backwards as Nikolai stepped closer to him. "I don't think we really have anything to talk about. I paid you the last time I used the cell phone, and I don't need it today for anything. Actually, you know what? I just remembered that I have to go bring Cyril to counseling with Sister Pete, I think." He put down the book he'd been holding and headed for the door. He was lying about Cyril, but it was the first excuse he could come up with. 

Stanislofsky didn't let him get that far, stopping him with a hand on his chest. "Oh, I don't want to talk about the cell phone," he said. "No, Ryan, I have something for more interesting in mind for the two of us." And there it was again – that fucking _look_ on his face, and he was leaning in close, getting ready to put his lips on Ryan for whatever stupid reason.

"What the fuck is with everybody trying to kiss me?" Ryan exclaimed, shoving Stanislofsky away as hard as he could. "Jesus Christ!" He shook his head.

But Nikolai wasn't done yet. "Ryan, you don't understand," he pleaded. "You and I, we are two of a kind. We belong together, and I will show you what it is like to be loved by me," he said, grabbing Ryan's wrist. "Please, I want you so badly and you do not understand how it hurts me." 

Wrenching his arm away from Stanislofsky, Ryan wrinkled his nose. "What the fuck is up with you, Stanislofsky? I don't know what the hell kind of scam you're trying to play on me, but it isn't working. Did you put Pancamo and Beecher up to this, too? Is that what this is? You're fucking with me because you want something," he said. What other explanation could there be for this behavior?

"There is no scam," Stanislofsky insisted. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Pancamo has touched you? Beecher has touched you? They don't understand that you're mine, Ryan. Do not pay them any mind. They do not feel for you as I do." And his hand was on Ryan's face, soft and tender. 

Ryan shoved him off again. "What the fuck is with everybody _touching_ me?" he exclaimed. And where the hell were the hacks? Hadn't there been somebody in here before? Ryan stared desperately toward the door in hopes that somebody would walk in and save him from this crazy Russian.

"There is nobody here," Nikolai assured him. "We can be alone to talk, and to do other things." Here, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile that reminded Ryan of the Grinch; it was creepy and evil and there was nothing good contained in that grin. Then he cornered Ryan by the bookcase, curling a hand around Ryan's waist and another around his neck. He leaned forward again. "Do not deny that you feel for me the way that I feel for you," he said. "I feel the tension between us and I know that you have been thinking of me, Ryan O'Reily." 

"I haven't thought of you that way because I don't like you, and I don't know why you suddenly think you like me!" Ryan exclaimed. "Fuck's sake, get your hands off me!" He pushed again, but this time Stanislofsky didn't budge. 

From behind them came a noise, and Ryan looked up just in time to see Officer Murphy – his savior, Jesus, the man was good at being in the right place at the right time – come through the library door. "Hey, boys, I don't think you should be alone in here," he said. "You know the rules about that shit." 

"Officer Murphy, we were only having a chat," Stanislofsky said innocently, but he didn't release Ryan. Instead, the hand around his waist tightened. 

Murphy didn't miss a trick, though; he was sharp. "Come on, how stupid do you think I am? You guys never have any kind of civil conversation that don't end up in a fight and I'm supposed to believe that I came in here and you got your hands all over Ryan because you're just chatting?" He raised his eyebrow as though challenging Stanislofsky to argue with him.

"He just came up to me and started feeling me up!" Ryan said, hoping Murphy would realize that he was telling the truth. With the way Ryan's day was going, though, he wouldn't be surprised if he was the one that ended up getting blamed. Maybe Sean would think it was a mutual thing between Ryan and the Russian, which it definitely wasn't. 

For a minute, the three of them just stood there – Ryan backed against the bookcase with Stanislofsky's hands on his waist, Officer Murphy eyeing the both of them like he wasn't quite sure which of them to believe. Finally, Sean stepped forward. "Stanislofsky, you've got twenty minutes left of library time, so you can stay here. O'Reily, you're coming with me."

Stanislofsky finally took his hands off Ryan, but not without giving him a lingering look. "We will finish this conversation later," he promised. 

"Not if I got anything to say about it," Murphy waned. Then he grabbed Ryan by the elbow to escort him from the library. Another guard was waiting right outside the library door, which had Ryan confused. Why hadn't that guy been watching him when Stanislofsky had come in? Why had Murphy been the one to finally step in? It was just another weird moment in an already beyond weird day.

After they had walked down the hall a little way, Murphy let go of Ryan's arm, but they kept walking. Then he kind of chuckled. "Some St. Patrick's Day you're having, O'Reily. Luck of the Irish, huh?" he joked.

Ryan stopped dead in his tracks, which caused Murphy to stop as well, turning around to look at Ryan. "Did you say St. Patrick's Day?" Ryan asked. "Is that really what day it is?" Suddenly everything made sense, and Ryan felt like kicking himself for not remembering. Had it really been ten years since the last time? "Fuck!" he said, kicking the wall. He immediately realized how stupid that was when a jolt of pain went up his leg. He wasn't going to do that again. 

"You okay, O'Reily?" Murphy asked. "It's just a holiday, not the end of the world." He looked at Ryan with concern, though. 

Shaking his head, Ryan said, "It's not just a holiday. It's St. Patrick's day. That's why nobody can keep their hands off me. It's the fuckin curse," he said. "Every ten years this shit happens to me on March seventeenth. All these people who wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole suddenly can't keep their hands off me and I can't stand it." 

"A curse?" Murphy said. "You really think somebody put a curse on you, O'Reily? Never thought you'd be the type to fall for that kind of shit." He raised his eyebrows, like he thought Ryan was making the whole thing up just for fun.

"It's fuckin true!" Ryan exclaimed. "How else do you explain Beecher kissing me and Stanislofsky telling me that he loves me?" 

Murphy's eyes got a little wide at that. "Beecher kissed you? Today? Does Keller know about this?" He looked almost like he was amused by Ryan's plight, but then again, he would be. 

Sighing, Ryan brushed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Beecher kissed me, but I told you, it's because of the fuckin curse." He shrugged. "The last time it happened, I was at a bar that night and I had all these guys buying me drinks and trying to get me to dance with them and I couldn't even go to the men's room without getting molested. Cyril had to bring me home and lock the door until the day was over," he explained. "I don't know where the curse came from, but Cyril says he thinks that I pissed off a witch when we were kids. Funny, but I don't remember doing it. You ask Cyril, though, and he'd tell you the story like it happened yesterday. Weird, ain't it?" he said.

Officer Murphy just kind of looked at him and for a moment Ryan thought – hoped – that the same urge that had overcome Pancamo, Beecher, and Stanislofsky would overcome Sean as well. If he was honest with himself, Ryan would say that Murphy was really the only guy in this place that he wanted to kiss, but it seemed like the curse didn't affect the hack at all. 

"So this curse – it only works on guys, then?" Murphy asked finally. His face was guarded and his tone was neutral. Ryan couldn't read him at all. 

Ryan shook his head. "It works on women, too, but I guess it's stronger on guys? Fuck if I know how it works," he said. "I think it only works on some people, but it doesn't make a difference who. I just want everybody to stop grabbing me like they own me. I mean, shit, Beecher probably would've tried to blow me in the showers if I hadn't pushed him off when I did," he said, and instantly regretted bringing that moment up again. It was embarrassing to think about.

However, Sean chose not to respond to that. "Well," he said. "I'll see if I can't have somebody keeping an eye on you for the rest of the day. I'd offer to put you in the Hole for a while, but I know you don't like leaving Cyril on his own like that," he added. "There's still four hours 'til lock down, though." 

He didn't like the idea of having Murphy breathing down his neck for the rest of the day, even if it meant keeping the other guys off his back. "I'll be okay," Ryan said. "I don't need one of you hacks following me everywhere." He shrugged. "Besides, I got a meeting with Sister Pete in like ten minutes. I'll be okay," he said again.

For a minute, Murphy looked like he wanted to argue with that, but instead he just sighed. "Whatever you say, O'Reily." He shook his head a little and then said, "Why don't I walk you to Sister Pete's now?" he offered. 

Ryan agreed to that, but the whole way over he kept waiting for Murphy to make a move on him. Of course, the hack never did. He tried not to act disappointed when Sean dropped him off at Sister Pete's without so much as even a smoldering glance. 

While he waited outside for Sister Pete to finish up with her other meeting, Ryan could not help wondering why the stupid curse couldn't have made Sean want him even a little bit. At least that would make the day suck just a little bit less. Fuck; if he was gonna get a little action in this place Ryan didn't want a fuckin Dago or a pussy like Beecher. He wanted Murphy.

*

It didn't take long for Ryan to wish he'd taken up Sean's offer of having somebody to keep an eye on him. In his meeting with Sister Pete, their entire conversation had revolved around sex – which had not been Ryan's choice, either – and Ryan was pretty sure that the nun had been giving him the eye, too. At least she hadn't tried to kiss him or anything like that, but she'd looked like she'd been having trouble holding herself back. It had been unsettling, to say the least.

Then, as Ryan was leaving her office, McManus had found him. Apparently both Stanislofsky and Pancamo had made requests to be pod mates with Ryan, and McManus wanted to see if Ryan had agreed to either request. Before Ryan could argue that, hell no, he was not sharing a pod with anyone other than his brother, McManus had suddenly asked Ryan to dinner – just like that, with no pretext or explanation or anything other than "Do you wanna go to dinner?" 

For one impossibly long, drawn-out moment, Ryan had been too confused to answer. "You mean you want to eat in the cafeteria with me?" It was such an odd request that Ryan's brain had not known how to process it. Instead of explaining himself, though, McManus had mumbled something and excused himself to wander back to his office.

With only a couple hours until lockdown, Ryan decided to hit the gym. He was pleased to see that nobody else was signed up to use it, so he'd have the place to himself; he figured he'd be safe for a little while at least. The time alone would be nice – it would be the first time all day that somebody wouldn't be trying to feel him up or get into his pants. But of course his luck was off.

He was halfway through his second set of reps on the bench press when Keller walked in. He had that look in his eye that just screamed "DANGER" and Ryan's first thought was: _oh shit. He knows what happened with me and Beecher._ He didn't know what Keller was going to do to him, but he had a feeling that it probably wasn't going to be anything good. Ryan set the weight bar back on the bench press and sat up, trying to act as casual as he could pull off.

"Been looking for you, O'Reily," said Keller, stalking over to Ryan like a panther headed towards its prey. Ryan wasn't used to being the one getting stalked, but after today he had a pretty good idea what it felt like for the zebra on the African plains. 

"I don't have any business with you, Keller," Ryan said. "Unless you think you owe me money or a favor, in which case I'm all ears." He smirked like he'd just told a really good joke, doing his best to lighten the mood. Chris was freaking him the fuck out. 

But Keller just eyed him for a minute before saying, "I got business with you, even if you don't know it yet." He stepped closer until he was standing right beside the weight bench. His crotch was level with Ryan's face and he parted his legs a little bit; it was hard not to miss what his body language was trying to say. Keller could be about as subtle as a brick to the face sometimes. 

"I think you got me confused for someone else," Ryan said. "I don't suck cock." He made to get up from the bench, but Keller's hands on his shoulders stopped him from going anywhere.

"Then I guess it's about time you learned how, don't you think?" Keller asked. He kept his hands on Ryan's shoulders, grinning down at the Irishman with that predatory look in his eyes. 

"Jesus, O'Reily, it hasn't even been an hour since you left Sister Pete's," groaned a voice that Ryan was starting to really get used to. He and Keller both looked up to see Officer Murphy entering the gym, that 'what the fuck are you doing?' look on his face. "Back off, Keller," he said. 

Chris put his hands up in the air like he was being arrested, but he kept up that easy grin on his face. "Whoa, it's all good Murphy. Don't get huffy, Ryan and I were just having a chat," Keller told him with a wink. "Did you want to join us?" And it was clear that he was asking Murphy to participate in more than just a chat. Why did that thought make Ryan all hot?

Officer Murphy rolled his eyes. "Seems like a lot of people are 'just chatting' with O'Reily today," he said. "Starting to think you might've been right about that curse, Ryan," he added, with a glance at the inmate in question. For a moment, his dark eyes felt like they were probing into Ryan's soul, as cliché as that sounded. Nobody had ever looked at Ryan that way before in his entire life and it was... weird.

"Curse?" Keller asked, drawing Ryan out from his thoughts. "Didn't know you Irish were that superstitious," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Remember that tomorrow," Ryan said, "when you suddenly aren't so eager to stick your dick in my face. And maybe you can tell that to Pancamo who has been giving me the eye all fuckin day. If it weren't for the curse he wouldn't be trying to grab my ass, and Stanislofsky wouldn't be telling me that we were soul mates or whatever the fuck he was babbling about," Ryan said, shrugging.

Keller just looked confused. "You on drugs again, O'Reily?" he asked.

Ryan was already sick of explaining himself, so he didn't bother. He stood up from the bench. "I'm done here, Officer Murphy," he said. "I think I'll go back to Em City." He gave Keller one last look before he followed Murphy out of the gym. 

"You ever think maybe if you just give in to one of these guys that maybe it'll stop the curse?" Murphy suggested, once they'd walked a little ways down the hall.

"You forget about the "no fucking" rule?" Ryan asked him. The idea really hadn't occurred to him, but Ryan supposed that if somebody came along that he wanted to mess around with, he might go along with it. Too bad that hadn't happened yet.

Murphy scoffed. "Since when are you so concerned with following the rules?" he asked. "I know you, O'Reily, and I know you don't give a shit about the rules. And so this whole curse thing is kinda crazy, but really – you ain't even once even thought about anybody here? Not even, like Beecher or somebody?" he asked. The tilt of his head and the way his eyes focused on Ryan had the younger man wondering what the fuck Murphy was getting at.

"Beecher? Fuck no! And why do you care so much, anyway?" Ryan asked. "No, I don't want to fuck Beecher, or Keller, or even McManus. Jesus, and why the fuck would I?" 

"McManus?" Murphy exclaimed. "Did Tim make a pass at you?" 

"I think so," Ryan said. "He asked me to dinner. It was fuckin weird."

Murphy laughed, and Ryan had to admit that the officer had a great smile. All this talk about fucking and sex and dating just made him want to press Murphy to the wall and show him exactly what Ryan was capable of. "Oh, Jesus, I can't believe that he did that," Murphy said. "I can't wait to tease him about it tomorrow. You think he'll remember it?" he asked. 

He was way too amused by this, but Ryan didn't think any of it was funny. He'd been lucky so far that nobody had succeeded in any of their attempts – unless the kiss from Beecher counted, but Ryan had allowed that one for his own curiosity – but it still hadn't been fun dodging everyone's attempts. 

"Nice to know somebody's enjoying this," Ryan said stiffly. They were close enough to Em City now that Ryan stalked off by himself, leaving Murphy there, still laughing at his own stupid joke. It was dumb to get mad at Murphy for this whole thing, but Ryan was so sick of it all that he didn't care whose fault it was; he just wanted somebody to blame, and Murphy had been following him around all day that he was just the first likely candidate. 

When he got back to Em City, Ryan hung out Cyril in their pod for a while and managed to stay relatively unmolested during that time at least, though Pancamo and Stanislofsky kept wandering by and making eyes at him. Beecher and Keller stayed away, though, but Ryan figured it was because they were probably preoccupied with each other. Even a curse couldn't keep those two apart. 

Then came the buzzer and he and Cyril had kitchen duty before dinner. With Cyril by his side as they walked down to the cafeteria, nobody else bothered to approach him. Ryan was starting to think that he might be able to make it until lock down without anything terrible happening. Maybe everyone had gotten the hint that he didn't want their goddamn hands all over him. 

No sooner had that thought entered his head than somebody was grabbing Ryan by the elbow. "Cyril, you go on ahead," said Officer Howell. "Your brother and I need to talk."

The younger O'Reily looked confused for a minute, but when Ryan gave him the nod, he did as he was ordered, shuffling along to the cafeteria with the rest of the kitchen crew. Meanwhile, Howell pulled Ryan's arm and dragged him with her down the opposite hallway.

Ryan didn't bother asking what was going on; it was probably something to do with the curse, and he wasn't all that interested in trying to fight Howell off just yet – she was a hack, after all, and he didn't know what she'd do with that baton of hers if he tried anything.

She stopped by an empty classroom and, opening the door, she shoved Ryan inside, following close behind. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Howell pushed Ryan up against the wall. "Don't say a fuckin word," she warned him, and then she unzipped Ryan's pants, reaching into his boxers to pull out his dick without any warning. 

"Jesus!" Ryan yelped. He had not been expecting that, but it figured that the first person to get straight to the dirty stuff would be a woman – and Howell, no less. 

Howell clamped a hand over his mouth, glaring daggers. "I told you not to talk, you little prick. Now shut up and enjoy this," she said as she spit into her other hand and then started jacking his cock. "All fuckin day I've been trying to find you," she said. "Don't know why, 'cause I have better taste than any of you shit heads in this place, but I'm starting to think I can make an exception for you," she said.

As much as Ryan didn't want to enjoy what she was doing, it was really hard not to with the way she was touching him; she seemed to know just how he liked it. Ryan decided that if he had to let anybody go through with their attempts to seduce him, he guessed Howell wasn't a bad choice. At least she seemed to know what she was doing, and she wasn't babbling on about how they belonged together the way Stanislofsky had been doing. 

Ryan closed his eyes and tried to pretend that it was somebody else's hand on his dick, but of course the first face to pop into his head belonged to Officer Murphy, and fuck, he knew that he was fucked up for even thinking of the guy, after everything else that had happened that day.

Nevertheless, he figured that what the hack didn't know wouldn't hurt him, so he went with the fantasy. He let himself imagine Sean pressing him into the wall, Sean's face watching him as Sean's hand was the one stroking him instead of Howell's. 

So caught up in his own fantasy was Ryan that when he heard the officer's familiar voice, he assumed he had imagined it, though why Sean would be saying, "For fuck's sake, Howell, what the hell are you doing?" Ryan didn't really know.

Once it set in – belatedly – that it was not his imagination that had heard Sean's voice, Ryan's eyes shot open. Thankfully, Sean was too busy staring at Howell to notice the blush staining the inmate's cheeks. For her part, Howell did look a little bit sheepish, though she looked more annoyed at being interrupted than all that guilty about what she'd done. 

"And I don't want to hear you say that you and Ryan were just chatting," Sean said. "Ryan? You wanna explain?" Now he turned his gaze on Ryan, and Ryan was tempted to tell Murphy to fuck off and let Howell finish the job, but it was too late. His boner was gone and she'd let go of him anyway, wiping her hands on her uniform pants.

"If he knows what's good for him, O'Reily won't say a fucking word," Howell warned him. "That doesn't leave this fuckin room." She turned her glare on Murphy, too, but he just shrugged easily. 

"Nobody's gonna get in trouble, Howell, Jesus," he said, but he was looking at Ryan as he spoke, trying to communicate something there. 

Ryan wasn't going to squeal, if that was what Murphy was trying to say with his eyes. "There's nothing going on here," he said. "Absolutely nothing at all going on here. Howell and me were talking but we got it all sorted out now." He smirked. 

"Right," Murphy said. "And you're all done here, then?" he asked, finally looking at Howell. "Maybe I should make sure O'Reily gets back to Em City. Something tells me he ain't gonna be on kitchen duty tonight," he said with another glance back at the inmate. 

Howell rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said. "But if I find out you talked to Glynn about this, you're going to be on my shit list, O'Reily," she warned him.

Ryan just shrugged. Who did she think he was gonna tell? He would probably get into more trouble than she would for something like that. After all, he was the prisoner, and she was just the hack. All those fuckin hacks stuck together anyway.

He looked at Murphy, wondering what the guy was gonna do now. He didn't want to go back to Em City and wait around 'til lockdown, but he really wasn't interested in trying to fuck around in the kitchen with Pancamo breathing over his shoulder and shit. 

"You wanna put that thing away?" Murphy said with a vague gesture towards Ryan's groin area.

Looking down, Ryan realized that he'd been standing there with his cock hanging out during that whole conversation. Slightly embarrassed, he tucked it back into his pants and zipped up. "She gets straight to the point, doesn't she?" he asked, referring to Howell. "I mean, I guess I like aggressive girls, but fuck." He shook his head. 

"Let's go," Murphy said, choosing not to respond to Ryan's comment. 

Together, they left the classroom, and Ryan couldn't help noticing that Murphy wasn't touching him at all. They were walking side by side, but there was no bodily contact between them. He wondered if Murphy was doing it on purpose, if there was a reason he wasn't touching Ryan. 

"Em City is the other way," Ryan pointed out, once he realized where they were going. 

"I know that. But we gotta talk, and we can't do it there," replied Murphy. 

Talk? Ryan wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, and when they reached their destination, he decided that he liked it even less. Murphy had brought him down to The Hole, and fuck if that wasn't the worst place for a talk. "I'm not going in there," Ryan said.

Murphy ignored that and shoved Ryan in – still fully clothed, at least – before following him inside and shutting the door behind them. "You've had a lotta close calls today, O'Reily," Murphy said. "And I ain't dealin' with any of that anymore. So we're staying in here until lockdown so you don't get into any more trouble." Then Murphy kinda eyed him and Ryan thought of all sorts of things he wanted to say to the guy. He stepped a little closer to the hack and noticed that Sean didn't move away, but he didn't move closer, either. He wasn't sure if that meant anything or not. Maybe he was reading too much into all of this, but he really didn't have anything else to lose. He didn't have to play the game anymore. 

"You know, it's a shame," Ryan said, lowering his voice a little. "The one person that I actually want to make a pass at me in this fuckin place is the one person who won't lay a hand on me." He shrugged one shoulder and then kind of eyed Sean to see if the hack got what he was trying to say.

He couldn't miss the way Sean rolled his eyes. "If you're talking about Doctor Nathan, I don't fuckin blame her for not coming near you. Jesus, O'Reily." He shook his head. 

"Gloria?" Ryan hadn't had a single thought about her all day – not 'til Sean had brought her up just now. He didn't want to think about her right now anyway, not when he was supposed to be having this breakthrough with Sean. "No, not Gloria, Jesus Christ, Sean, are you that fucking blind?" Ryan took another step closer. He wanted to reach out and touch the other man, but he was afraid of what would happen if he made the first move. The hacks never had a problem using violence to keep the inmates in line, and Sean was still a hack, Irish or not. It was stupid to think there wouldn't any consequences to his actions, but fuck how else was he supposed to know if it was worth it or not?

"Don't say that, Ryan," Sean warned him. "You don't want to start something you won't be able to finish," he added. Finally, he took a step back away from Ryan, but the Hole wasn't made for two people; there wasn't a lot of space to move around, meaning Sean really didn't have much of a place to go if he was trying to move away. Still, he kept his eyes focused on Ryan as he spoke. "Sometimes you gotta ignore what you feel and what you want because it ain't right." 

Ryan wasn't stupid enough to miss what Sean might have been saying. "I won't tell anybody," he said, but he didn't move any closer to Sean. "And if you've been holding back this whole day –" He didn't know how to finish that sentence, so he just sighed, shrugging again. 

"A day?" Sean gave a short laugh. "Try months of me holding this shit in. Fuck, O'Reily, I told you it ain't right, and you gotta stop making me feel like I owe you an answer. I don't fuckin owe you anything. I don't owe you to tell you what the fuck is goin on with my head when I'm around you." He looked like he was gonna say something else, but he stopped himself. For a minute it looked like he was trying to work something out inside his own head. 

Ryan couldn't tear his eyes away from the officer, hoping the conclusion of whatever Sean was working out would end up in his favor. Today hadn't really been Ryan's lucky day, but if one thing went his way then maybe it would all equal out in the end. 

"Oh, fuck it," Sean said, and in two quick strides, he closed the gap between then, cupping Ryan's face in his hands as he crushed their mouths together. 

It was nothing like it had been with Beecher. This was _real_ , with Sean's rough hands on his cheeks and his chest pressed up against Ryan's as he tilted his head to change the angle of the kiss. And fuck, it was like he'd never been kissed before, the way Sean seemed to wake up every nerve in Ryan's body and remind him what it felt like to be that close to another person. 

Just as soon as it had started, though, Sean was pulling back. "This is a mistake," he said, though whether he was talking to himself or to Ryan wasn't clear. Nevertheless, he didn't seem too interested in leaving or stopping what they were doing, either. Instead, he seemed to become even _more_ forceful, pushing Ryan backward toward the cold wall until the inmate couldn't go any further. 

For the first time that day, Ryan didn't object to being forced up against the wall – not when it was Sean's mouth on his neck and Sean's hands pinning his wrists above his head. Those were Sean's hips pressing into him and Ryan couldn't move even if he wanted to. Instead of complaining, he tilted his head to allow Sean more access to his neck. His body was humming and he felt truly _alive_ for the first time in a long time; he wanted this to go on forever. 

One of Sean's hands dropped down and began working Ryan's pants open again. He was a bit gentler about it than Howell had been, and when he wrapped his fingers around Ryan's cock, the inmate sucked in a breath. There was no going back, now; they had to finish what they'd started. 

"Fuck, yeah," Ryan gasped out. Sean was still holding one of Ryan's wrists above his head, but the other hand was free and Ryan used that one to grab Sean's hip. If he had both hands free, he probably would have made some sort of effort to help the hack out of his clothes, but instead he just closed his eyes and let his head fall back as Sean continued to stroke with an expert hand. 

All Ryan could hear was the sound of his heavy breathing mixed in with Sean's, and it was an incredible turn on. They were down here where nobody would find them and it was dark and musty smelling but it didn't matter because Sean was touching him. God, he could do this all day, just let Sean worship with his mouth and his hands and –

"Oh fuck," Ryan said again, bucking his hips when Sean nipped his neck. He could feel the hack's lips curling into a smile on his neck, his tongue darting out to lick the same spot he'd bitten. Ryan had never been more turned on in his life and Sean seemed to know exactly what to do get Ryan hot. 

But it was over far too soon, Ryan barely able to gasp out a warning as he came in Sean's hand. The kissing continued, Sean using his clean hand to tilt Ryan's face toward him as he captured the younger's mouth in his own. 

This kiss was different, like a slow burn instead of a quick burst, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Sean's neck to allow the full force of the kiss travel through his body. He didn't care anymore about everything that would come between them. He just wanted this moment and nothing else. 

When Sean pulled away, he was looking down at the mess in his hand. "Take off your shirt," he said to Ryan. "You can get another one when you get back to your pod." 

"Why don't you just wipe in on your fuckin pants?" Ryan asked, but he obliged, peeling off his shirt and offering it to Sean to wipe his hands with. 

Now that his hands were clean, Sean balled the shirt up and handed it back to Ryan. "This – thing that just happened here? This is staying between us, okay? You breathe another word to anybody – McManus or Howell or even fucking Cyril – and you could be spending a lotta time down here in the Hole," he warned. His hands were shaking; Ryan had never seen him like that before. 

Ryan reached for him, but Sean stepped back.

"Don't," he said. "I'm in enough trouble already. I shouldn't have done that." He was looking down at his still-shaking hands, biting down on his lower lip so hard that Ryan thought it was going to start bleeding. 

He knew what Sean was doing because he'd done the same sort of thing to himself before, but he didn't like seeing the hack hurting himself. "Jesus, Sean, it ain't a big deal. Just let me help you out." And yeah, so he'd never actually touched another guy like that before, but it couldn't be that hard, right?

This time Sean didn't pull away and he let Ryan unbuckle his belt, tugging his pants down enough to let Ryan pull his cock out. And maybe Ryan didn't know what he was doing, but he knew what he liked, and that seemed to be enough. As soon as he wrapped his hand around Sean, the hack's eyes slid closed and he gripped Ryan's bicep, fingers digging in almost painfully. 

But Sean wasn't quiet like Ryan had been. No, he was gasping and breathing heavily and offering Ryan suggestions on speed and the angle and "yeah, keep doing that." Ryan had never been a big fan of talking a lot during sex, but with Sean, he didn't mind it at all. 

The best part was watching the officer's face as he came, because Ryan was pretty sure he would never get that face out of his mind. He'd think about it whenever he saw Sean walking around Em City or restraining a prisoner or talking with McManus – yeah, now that would be a nice image.

While Sean caught his breath, Ryan cleaned them both up and got himself and Sean back into their pants. Save for Ryan's missing shirt, they almost looked presentable – well, except for the fact that they looked like they'd been up to no good.

Sean looked about ready to say something, but Ryan stopped him.

"Don't fucking start with that guilt shit, Murphy," he warned. "It takes two to tango and we both wanted this." He didn't want to see the hack struggling with his identity or feeling bad for what he'd done. There was no need for that shit when they'd both enjoyed themselves. 

Murphy's tongue shot out to lick his lips and he watched Ryan carefully. "I'm not –" He shook his head. "No regrets, okay? But it ain't something I want spread around, either. I could lose my job." 

So maybe Ryan didn't know what that was like. He was going to be here in Oz for the rest of his life and he wasn't going to have to work for a living like Sean did. There wasn't much that Ryan had left to lose, though, and now that he had this thing with Sean, he didn't wanna lose that by getting Sean fired. 

He closed the distance between them and stood awkwardly before Sean for a moment. He wasn't good at this shit – hell, when was the last time he'd had to be romantic? 

Sean seemed to understand, though, and he wrapped his arms around Ryan, pulling him into a hug. Ryan brought his arms around Sean and the two of them stood there quietly for a long moment.

And yeah, so this was Oz – and maybe there wasn't such thing as love in a place like this, but wasn't this the next best thing? Having somebody who understood you, somebody that you could share this part of yourself with, without fearing judgment? Somebody you could even come to trust?

*

 **  
_Meanwhile, in Tim McManus's Office_   
**

Upon seeing the two men embrace, Tim McManus smiled to himself. Sean Murphy had been his close friend for a very long time, and Tim longed to see the other man happy.

The fact that he'd had to go back in time and disguise himself as an old woman to put a curse on Ryan O'Reily, only for it to finally end up this way for Sean – well, that was what best friends did for each other. Tim just wanted to see Sean happy, that was all.

Of course, that meant that now Sean owed him something equally awesome in return, but he'd discuss that with his friend later. Over dinner. Tim loved dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how the schedule in Oz goes as far as meals and such, so I tried to be vague about that, too. 
> 
> The ending is a COMPLETE crack ending, but I wanted to go that route and I know it's weird but that's what "crack" is. You'll just have to deal with it! *wink*


End file.
